The Spook's Heart
by Daughter of Lestrange
Summary: Tom knows not to trust girls with pointy shoes. What about a girl with pointy teeth? Could he ever get over being snubbed by Alice, or is he doomed to die alone as every other Spook has?


Chapter 1

Unexpected Calling 

It was late in the night. Tom yawned wide, tired from the day's events. There had been several ghosts and two boggarts to deal with. He had been lucky that most only required determined persuasion to move on. Still, going back and forth from one end of Chipenden to the other for the whole of the day was enough to exhaust anyone. When he had finally arrived back at the Spook's house, he'd received another shock to find Grimalkin waiting by the bell outside the garden.. She had taken to looking in on him every so often. Despite what she claimed, Tom knew the truth – Grimalkin's main purpose in life had been to destroy the Fiend, and now that he'd been dealt with, she had nothing much to do. She had grown lonely and rather enjoyed his company.

They had stayed up later then he would have liked, catching up on what had been going on. It was all very interesting, but eventually he just couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Grimalkin seemed a bit spent as well, so they each went off to their own rooms to crawl between the sheets. It was wonderful to hunker down under the warm covers while it was so cold outside. This winter hadn't been as harsh as some he remembered, but it was never pleasant.  
Tom had just pulled on his flannels. He yawned again, stretch and burrowed under the blankets. He certainly hoped tomorrow wouldn't be like today. He wouldn't need new boots, he would need new feet. It was no wonder John Gregory's knees had gotten so bad. His thoughts drifted here and there until he finally fell into a comfortable sleep.  
The next thing he knew, he had been startled awake. He found himself alrady sitting up in his bed. He had a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead as if he'd been having a nightmare, though he knew he hadn't been. He had a dull headache the seemed to grow worse, into one pinpoint of pain. It was then that he realized what was wrong. Someone was in trouble. They were calling him, using the gift his mam had given him.  
But who? Grimalkin was in the next room. No one in his family knew about it. The only other person who knew was Alice. As if she would ask him for help. She had her precious Lukrasta to look after her and surely he could do far more to aid her with his magic then Tom could. Curiosity getting the better of him, Tom crawled out of bed. He yawned and stretched, pulling a long tunic over his flannels. Surely a Spook was entitled to wear whatever he chose at 4 in the morning. Anyway, his cloak would cover what little could be seen of them. If this person were truly in danger, the last thing they should be concerned about were his flannel trousers.  
He grabbed up his silver chain and donned his cloak. He grabbed a lantern and lit it, then stepped outside of bedroom. He was surprised to see Grimalkin already dressed, garbed in her knives, and waiting for him.  
"You felt it too, then?" She asked.  
"Yes, but... you did?" Tom was a bit taken aback. How had she been able to feel it as well?

She nodded. "It was a signal. A magical beacon, if you will. It's a common rallying spell used among witches for aid. I should think any witch within a mile would have received it, though I am not quite certain why you did."

They went out into the garden, Tom thinking about what it could mean and trying to find the exact location of whomever was in distress. He concentrated hard, allowing the prickling to come to a head. It was coming from just beyond the river, between it and the smallest hill of Parlick Peak. He and Grimalkin set off at a brisk pace.

"Will other witches already be there?" Tom asked.

"I couldn't say for certain, but I doubt it. Most do their best to keep their distance from a Spook's territory. They will be even more cautious because they will sense my presence. I have not sniffed any in the area, but if there are, they will leave us to deal with it."

At least that was some relief. The last thing he needed was to step into a situation where an entire coven would be present, trying to help a fallen member.

"You don't suppose it's Alice?" He wondered aloud.

"Only in an extreme situation would she ask for our aid now. I believe if things were that bad, there would have to be something immensely dark and terrible out of control such as the birth of Talkus. If that were the case, we would already know about it. No, I don't think it would be her."

Tom was slightly disappointed. If Alice had needed his help, that would mean Lukrasta was no longer enough. And if he were no longer enough, then perhaps there was a chance for him. He was instantly angry at himself for even thinking that way. How many times had he told himself to get over it? She was gone. She was completely changed now. She no longer missed him, nor did she need him. She had moved on. Hadn't she? He moved faster to push the thoughts from his mind.

They were quickly approaching where Tom had sensed they needed to be. The urgency faded away altogether the moment they arrived. Tom looked about him everywhere. There was no one to be seen. Grimalkin turned in a slow circle, her eyes scanning all around. She scowled.

"What is this? We have come to your aid! Show yourself!" She called angrily.

There was no reply but a few birds and the wind. Tom began to feel rather irritated as well. How dare someone summon him with such urgency and then leave! Or perhaps they just did not trust what they saw and were cleverly camouflaged, still in hiding.

"We _are_ here to help you," Tom called. "My name is Tom Ward, the Spook of Chipenden. This is Grimalkin, assassain of the Malkin coven. The only ones who have need to fear us are your enemies. Please, come out. We don't wish you any harm." When there was only silence again, he spoke again. "Right, now this is just plain rude! You called for help and now you're picky about who comes to your aid? Or is this some sort of a joke? What are you playing at?"

Grimalkin growled and cursed. "I say we split up. You go that way, I will go this. We will meet at the other side of this hill and come back down the opposite direction to meet back here."

Tom agreed. Grimalkin drew her sword and started off to the left. Tom wrapped his silver chain around his hand and headed to the right. He paid extra close attention to every oversized lump on the ground. Anything that moved caught his eye. He looked into several logs and behind the massive boulders. There were even a couple 3foot indents in the rock face that he poked his head into. The only living thing on the hillside appeared to be rabbits. He finally cane to the top and met Grimalkin.

"Nothing," he told her.

"Nothing," she repeated, shaking her head in frustration.

Tom went back down the left side of the mountain, Grimalkin went the way he had come. The only thing recent on that side were Grimalkin's footprints in a patch of mud. There were more places to conceal oneself there, none of which proved fruitful. He looked up at the peak to see Grimalkin on the top, scanning the surrounding area. He continued on his way down and stood by the river while he waited for her to join him.

"I believe we've been duped," Grimalkin said angrily. "I fail to understand why. There is nothing worth such a measure in the house, so if theft is the motive, they will be sorely disappointed."

"Would someone want to ambush us?" Tom asked.

"Again, I cannot see why. We have done nothing to provoke anyone of late."

"I just don't know any other witch who would have a reason to contact me. Alice is the only person who makes sense. Besides, she can vanish on the spot."

"Who said it was a witch?"

"I thought that you said this was magic," Tom replied, confused.

"I did, but you know as well as I that there are more beings then witches who can use magic. There was definitely something here, but I can tell you that it was not a witch. The scent is different. There were more then one, as well. While I was on the peak, I could see patterns of disturbed grass. There was a small group here. Of what, I am not certain. It must have been one of them that called out."

"What do you think happened to them?"

"I haven't any idea. They were either impossibly fast or, as you said, they were able to vanish on the spot." Grimalkin looked up at the sky. "It is almost dawn. I suggest we bed down here and rest for a few hours. Perhaps it will look different in the daylight."

Tom agreed. It was entirely possible that they were simply not seeing obvious signs because it was dark. He had always been able to see better then most people could have in the dark, but if the clues were small, some light might make all the difference.

They decided to sleep under an old stone bridge. It was little used, mostly by peddlers on their way to Chipenden to sell their summer wares. The grass had grown high there, being able to draw so much water from the river. It was past his knees in places. Small field mice scurried away from them, as well as a few rabbits. He poked at the ground with his staff, nervous of snakes or any other creepy crawlies that might be lying in wait for unsuspecting prey.

They were almost to the bridge when his foot found a rabbit hole. The toe of his left boot went in a good three inches and planted itself there. He cried out as he fell and landed on his stomach with a thump. His staff rolled several inches away. The hood of his cloak came over his eyes. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard Grimalkin snicker. Tom sighed, then laughed a little himself. He must have looked very foolish. He was just picking himself up and lifted his hood when he saw it. He was nose to nose with a corpse.

The face was horrible. It's eyes were glazed over and bulging out. It didn't appear to have lips, only teeth with needle like fangs. The nose had gone down to only two gaping holes. The skin was green or gray in places, but it was mostly oozing red and black. This thing had clearly been burned. He could smell it now, the scent of burnt hair and flesh, along with blood and the familiar scent of decay. He could also smell a heavy floral scent that usually clung to the deceased – another thing he had inherited for his mam. He was so startled he couldn't make a sound.

Tom quickly got to his knees and scrambled backwards in a panic. "Grimalkin! Look! Over here, a body!" He suddenly felt nauseous but he forced it down.

Grimalkin helped him to his feet, and together they went for a better look. It was the body of a female. She had been rather short; Tom guessed that the top of her head would have barely reached his chest. He felt sad to see that she was younger then he was. Her clothes were now filthy, tattered and burnt along with the rest of her body but at one point, they would have been those of a wealthier person. Not yet a Lady, but perhaps the daughter of one. He noted that she was not a witch – she wasn't wearing pointy shoes.

"I think we've found who called," Tom said softly. "Poor girl. I suppose we ought to - "

He had begun to bend down, but Grimalkin stopped him.

"Be careful! Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"Why?"

Grimalkin gave her mysterious half-smile. "You do not recognize what she is. I suppose I can forgive that, as you have seen the Romanian sort. Still, there is one obvious sign that all of them possess." She took his staff and used the end to point at the girl's teeth. "Now, what is she?"

Tom felt rather stupid then. Those fangs – of course! It really was obvious. "A vampire."

"Yes." She sighed sadly. "It really is a pity. There are few enough vampires as it is. They have always been good allies of witches. I can tell she was a young one. A baby, as a vampires go."

"A baby," Tom repeated, thinking. "Could she have been taken from them?"

"That's a far more likely scenario then the other option. Vampires rarely kill one of their own. To slaughter one so young would be a terrible crime and the killers would pay dearly for it."

After further conversation, they decided that they would slide her into the river. Tom knelt by her head, Grimalkin by her hips. Tom had just placed his hands under her when he saw something that shocked him completely.

A milky substance pooled at the corner of her eye. As he watched, it gathered until it fell down her cheek, leaving a glistening trail.

"Wait!" He cried. "Look at this! Is that a tear?"

Grimalkin leaned in and stared at the girl's face in stunned silence. Finally she said, "It could have just been a reaction. If it was already there, moving her might have spilled it."

Suddenly, the entire body twitched and the girl gave a great gasp. Though she couldn't speak, Tom heard her small, pleading voice in his head.

_Please... help me? Please?_

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